


Use Your Hand

by eatthebunny



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, Office Sex, Possessive Behavior, Spanking, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:35:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatthebunny/pseuds/eatthebunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal wants Will on his knees in his office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Use Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whiskeyandspite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/gifts).



Hannibal shuffled some papers on his desk, tucking a few into the leather case he held in one hand. Looking up, he saw that Will was standing in the middle of the room; the light filtering in through the striped curtains made a bright nimbus around the younger man's head.

Smiling, Hannibal stopped moving his hands and just watched Will run his fingers through his seal-brown curls, grinning uncertainly at his therapist.

"What is it?" Will asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Though the posture was still defensive, three weeks of being Hannibal's lover had smoothed out his movements and infused a little cockiness in the stance.

Hannibal stepped around to the front of the desk and let his face crease wider into a wicked grin as he leaned back against the wood.

"Take your shirt off," he murmured, crossing his own arms over the dark eggplant suit he wore.

Will's eyebrows shot up, and he coughed out a little laugh; he quickly shoved his hands into his pockets, his torso tilting forward, shoulders up.

"Uh... why?" he asked, his smile confused. He took a step forward but stopped when Hannibal held out a long-fingered hand.

"Take off your shirt, Will," said Hannibal. "I shouldn't have to ask twice." He tilted his head and raised his stark brows, his face having gone serious.

Will frowned but lifted his hands to the front of his grey shirt obediently. After undoing the top three buttons, he swallowed and narrowed his eyes at Hannibal.

The older man could see the pulse jumping in Will's neck, and it sent a small frisson of desire through him. Nodding in encouragement, Hannibal smiled softly.

Will's eyes flicked to the door to the right of Hannibal, his fingers paused in their motion.

"Are you sure...?" he asked, the tone of his voice laying bare his trepidation.

"Am I sure what, Will?" replied Hannibal, the patience slowly leaking out of him. "Am I sure that I want you stripped down and on your knees in the middle of my office?" Hannibal uncrossed his arms and pressed his fingers into the knot of his cream-and-cerise paisley tie.

Will's eyes had gone wide, his mouth opening slightly with a quick exhale of breath. His fingers, tight around the fourth button, twitched, paused and then slowly resumed their course down his shirt.

The tie slid out from under Hannibal's collar, a soft hiss of silk against crisp cotton as he watched Will, his expression hungry. The younger man tugged the shirt out of his pants, revealing a white cotton tee.

Letting out a soft breath at the sight of Will's body hugged by the thin material, Hannibal shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the back of his office chair, folding the tie in three and laying it over one of the jacket's shoulders.

Will stretched up, pulling the t-shirt over his head, his ribs becoming starkly defined in his pale skin with the motion. Hannibal's eyes were drawn to the dark hair that led below the waistband of Will's cheap work pants.

Will hesitated again, his blue eyes watching Hannibal as the older man rolled up his sleeves and undid the top two buttons of the cream shirt he wore.

Aroused by the desire that warred with apprehension on Will's face, Hannibal took a step forward and undid the buckle on his belt.

"You're making me wait, Will," Hannibal said quietly, making his impatience known. He tugged on his belt, pulling it through the loops in his pants.

Will's eyes tracked the motion of Hannibal's hands, his own stilled and unsure. The doctor had never asked anything like this of Will before; so far their relations had taken place only in the safety of Hannibal's bedroom. Hannibal knew much of Will's hesitation came from the different setting; the office was familiar, but it was also a space often shared with relative strangers.

Flaring his nostrils slightly, Hannibal caught the acrid scent of Will's sweat: nervous excitement.

After licking his lips again, dark brows pinched over his nose, Will squared his shoulders.

"What if I said no?" he asked, his voice sounding small in the large, dim room. Hannibal chuckled softly and doubled the leather belt over in his hands once, holding it lightly.

"If you say no, I will leave marks on your skin. Red and dark. I will _hurt_ you," replied Hannibal, his voice even, emotionless. Hannibal was operating on a hunch, something that he had noticed... hoped was true about Will.

His suspicions were confirmed a moment later when Will tilted his head up slightly, appraising Hannibal as he uttered a single word: "No."

Hannibal's heart jumped and thrummed in his chest, and he stepped forward again, his hand darting out to quickly catch Will around the throat. The rough stubble prickled his palm for only an instant before he _squeezed_.

"No?" Hannibal asked, raising his brows. The hot, musky scent of lust hung heavy in the air, shot through with sharp veins of something that smelled slightly of fear. Will's hands had come up instantly to try to wrest Hannibal's grasp from his throat, his fingers digging into the older man's skin.

"No," repeated Will hoarsely, but this time there was a definite challenge in his voice.

In the blink of an eye, Hannibal had Will down on his back on the plush chaise. It took surprisingly little effort to turn Will over so his torso was pressed against the chair, his thighs hanging off the side, knees not quite on the rug. Hannibal knew that the FBI agent wasn't putting up much of a fight on purpose; curiously, it made his lust sharper knowing that Will wanted this.

With one hand tight around the back of Will's neck, thumb pressed hard into the point where jaw and throat meet, Hannibal smiled at the younger man's surprised grunt of pain and leaned in to murmur in his ear.

"Undo your pants, Will," he said, letting his lips skim the edge of Will's ear.

"No," whispered Will into the fabric. He let out another soft hiss of pain as Hannibal dug into the pressure point, Will's body jerking beneath the doctor's.

When Hannibal didn't let up, Will's hands came up and paused close to his neck—a slight hesitation, the thought of struggle clear—before sliding below his body to fumble open his fly.

Hannibal let out a low chuckle.

"Good choice," Hannibal purred as he let go. Will turned his head with a gasp, breathing heavy in a combination of relief and anticipation.

When Hannibal pushed himself up to standing, he saw that Will's pants had come down slightly, his pale blue boxers showing.  He bent down and roughly tugged down on the waistband, exposing the pale skin of Will's ass. Hannibal was pleased to see that Will made no move to struggle. In fact, the younger man's hands came up to clench, white knuckled, at the side of the chaise to either side of his head. Will's eyes were closed, his cheeks flushed and mouth open in a slow pant.

Hannibal blinked slowly at the spectacle in front of him—Will bent over a piece of furniture, pants halfway down his thighs, legs spread slightly—and ran a hand down the front of his own pants where his erection strained against the heavy fabric of his suit.

Wondering briefly whether Will expected Hannibal to simply fuck him or for him to live up to his promise of pain, the older man released one end of his belt and, with an almost lazy arc over his left shoulder, delivered a backhanded crack of leather in a diagonal stripe across Will's buttocks.

The younger man let out a cry, choked with surprise and pain. Will's knees hit the floor, and his head swung around to look at Hannibal when a second brutal strike drove another animal sound from Will's throat.

"F-fuck!" panted the dark-haired man, his eyes half-closed, head bowed.

Hannibal wasted no time laying into Will a third and forth time, careful to hit virgin skin; he didn't yet want to retrace his previous strikes. Let the skin warm, redden, become tender...

With a low growl, Hannibal expertly whipped Will with the heavy leather of his belt, gratified that Will cried and gasped in pain but never made an attempt to avoid his strikes. In fact, much to Hannibal's amusement, Will seemed to push back into the assault.

After a particularly sharp howl from Will, there was a rap on the door to Hannibal's office.

Straightening, the doctor brushed back his hair and made an attempt to slow his breathing. Will and he were there after hours; was someone else working late or was it simply the cleaning crew? Hannibal only hoped that whoever it was didn't demand entrance.

Leaving Will a panting, mewling mess, a slow trickle of blood making a red line down the back of one thigh, Hannibal smiled charmingly as he opened the door. Everett, the lawyer from down the hall, looked relieved to see Hannibal.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Dr. Lecter," said the small, greasy man, his brown eyes looking up at Hannibal with worry. "I heard some shouts... I just..." Everett tried to peer around Hannibal, but the taller man blocked the view as best as he could.

"I'm terribly sorry for the noise! Had I known there were others in the building, I would not have attempted this very experimental treatment," said Hannibal smoothly, his head tilting in the semblance of chagrin. At Hannibal's words the lawyer's face creased into a mollified smile. Of course the charming Dr. Lecter was merely trying something complicated and cutting edge! Satisfied with Hannibal's explanations, the portly little man excused himself and left.

Closing the door, Hannibal turned to see that Will hadn't moved from the side of the chaise but was watching the doctor over his shoulder. Hannibal couldn't read the younger man's expression.

He crossed the room, picking up the belt he had dropped on his desk, and stood staring at his handy work with Will's eyes boring into him. The younger man's buttocks and thighs were a mess of purple and red, bruises blooming slowly on his pale flesh.

He leaned down and stroked the hot skin of one cheek and watched in amazement as Will tucked one hand beneath his body, his intent obvious. Laying his head down on the cushion once more, Will closed his eyes and let out a shuddery breath. Hannibal cupped the swollen skin in his palm and felt his cock surge thick again with Will's next words:

"Use your hand."

With a shallow breath, the doctor let drop the belt and instead pulled back his arm to strike Will with his bare hand. Rewarded with a pain-laced groan, Hannibal bent himself to the task.

By the time Hannibal dropped to his knees behind the younger man to press the wide head of his cock against the puckered mouth of Will's ass, both men were panting and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Hannibal's stinging palm burned against the welts he had caused as he slid his cock inside Will, deep and tight.

Feeling the body beneath him tremble as Will quickly approached climax, Hannibal leaned down to press his lips against the younger man's back and paused, cock buried, his hip bones flush against Will's bruised skin. When Will whimpered softly at the lack of movement, Hannibal smiled.

"Who do you belong to, Will?" he murmured against the younger man's skin, his breath hot, eyes closed.

"You. Only you," came the gasped response. Hannibal could hear wonder in Will's voice as he discovered the truth of his words.

Hannibal kissed Will's spine, lips open, tongue out to taste the younger man's sweat before he straightened, chuckling softly.

"Yes, you do," he said quietly as he resumed fucking Will, harder this time, his thrusts pulling groans out of the younger man and bringing his own blistering pleasure closer.

"Now... Cum for me, Will," Hannibal said, his voice a low growl as he pounded himself into Will. The younger man let out a soft whimper, relief, and then an almost surprised groan as his body went rigid beneath Hannibal. Will's muscles clenched with his climax, and Hannibal let out his own sounds, hungry, bestial, as he came.

Hannibal laughed with the last pulses of orgasm, his hands pressing into Will's bruises hard, drawing a harsh whimper from the younger man.

"Good boy," Hannibal murmured, pleased.

Yes, Will was his.

All his.


End file.
